For the beginning of this story, click here.
When we arrived at the OB Emergency, I was wheeled into room 75. The place looked pretty empty, and I was glad for it. Just a few years before I had visited this hospital to deliver a newborn crochet set to a new momma I had gone to high school with. It felt odd to be back as a patient.
I really thought they'd be running some tests and sending me home.
I was hooked up to a blood pressure monitor, labs were drawn, urine sample taken (again). That blood pressure cuff was so uncomfortable and inflated every 15 minutes. Every single time my blood pressure registered high. Every time the nurse had to come in and shut off the annoying beep.
Hi Kaila, we'd like to introduce you to Dr. Townsend. Can you tell her what's going on?
I don't even remember exactly what I told her, other than I CANNOT get stuck here. We just cannot deliver here. I have a whole team up at Rush Copley. They know what I need, we've been planning for months.
Rush Copley? I live up there. Who do you see?
I explained everything to her and found out that she had worked with my OB in the past. She even had his phone number. I'll call him and we will discuss what we should do.
Honestly, at this point I'm fuzzy about the details and Jamey had fallen asleep on the couch in the room. We were right at shift change, so the doctor who knew my OB was leaving and a new one entered. People were in and out of our room, asking so many questions and I just kept telling them, I NEED to get back to my doctors in Aurora. Please just make sure I get back there.
My labs came back and my new doctor came in to talk to me. I wish I'd woken Jamey up. I don't know why I didn't. His snoring was loud and I knew he was exhausted. Just tell me what's going on, please discharge me. I promise we will head straight to Rush when we leave.
Listen. Your labs are not where they should be. Your liver enzymes are triple their normal value and your platelets and red blood cell count are dropping. Your blood pressure is high, and there is protein in your urine. With all of this put together, we are sure you have what's called HELLP syndrome. The only way to "cure" this is delivery, and we recommend sooner than later.
My jaw dropped and I started to tear up. Sooner...as in maybe next week?
No, we don't have that kind of time. Sooner, as in the next 30 minutes. And we need to get you started on magnesium to prevent you from having a seizure.
That was when I woke up Jamey. I started to sob. I don't have any of his things. I don't have his memento-making box, the blanket I made, the baby book to take footprints...I don't have a photographer on call here. What are we going to do??
We googled HELLP syndrome. A little blue bar showed up at the top of the screen. Very rare. Fewer than 20,000 cases/year.
You have got to be freaking kidding me.
Once again, this is blurred for me. I remember calling my Mom and saying, "You need to get up here. They're going to take him." "What?!? We'll be right there," she'd responded.
We thought we were there for heartburn.
I asked them to take a quick check of my gal bladder to make EXTRA sure they weren't wrong about this diagnosis. How do you know it's this for sure, especially since it's so rare?
It's not so rare that we've never seen it before, my doctor said, In fact, my wife had this syndrome with our last baby.
But...my son is going to die when you take him. We hadn't even had a meeting yet with our neonatologist. We still had time.
Doctors and nurses scrambled to prepare for Gabriel's delivery. Jamey told me later they called someone on their way home from the night shift to turn around and come back. Their neonatologist came in and started asking questions. At that point they had started the magnesium and I was beginning to feel foggy. Question after question.
I was afraid I'd answer incorrectly or forget something. Maybe he could be saved by some crazy miracle and he would now die because I'd forgotten an important piece of information. About a week after his birth, I had called my maternal fetal med physician, absolutely sure I had just let him die. That I didn't care enough to try. That I'd missed something. A better mother would have made sure he lived. Even when you know there's nothing that could have been done, the guilt is crushing.
My Mom, Dad, and baby sister arrived. They brought a sweet blanket with angel wings and Gabriel's name that had been gifted to me the night before by my cousin. I had something for him. I was so happy for that. They started asking questions, the same I'd had.
The team answered everyone's questions and said, we called a photographer for an organization called Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep. Are you familiar with them? We are just waiting on her right now and we will take you back.
Oh my goodness, yes. We had an amazing photographer when Sam was born who volunteers with NILMDTS, and I had already contacted another volunteer photographer in our area too. I was beyond grateful this team of doctors were making sure our needs were met. We want to make sure we take care of you not only physically, but emotionally and spiritually during this time, my doctor had said.
We need more doctors like him. He even asked me who I would like to join me in the OR. Can my husband AND mom come?
Of course. We'll bring in extra scrubs for them.
The photographer is here. We need to take you back to be prepped.
Are you ready?
Nope. I'll never be ready.
They wheeled me out. I was in a bit of shock. Unfortunately at this point all I could focus on was the catheter they'd put in after they started the magnesium. Is this really what I'm going to remember from this? The catheter? This thing is awful. I'm so ready for the spinal so I don't feel it anymore. Just. Breathe.
They put me on the table and injected the spinal. Sweet. Relief. They laid me back on the table, inserted the oxygen tube into my nostrils, and started prepping. All I could see was the infant warmer across the room, and I could hear the beeping of machines. Oh my goodness. Gabriel's going to be in that soon. I'm not ready. Let me go. This is not what I want.
Would you like to listen to some soft music?
Music? Who wants to listen to music? I don't care. No, I thought.
Yes, I whispered.
I heard the radio come on with some quiet music. My doctor started telling them to change the station, a couple changes and he said, Yes, this one. Stay here. He chose KLOVE.
Tears started to roll off my cheeks and fear started to set in. Someone grabbed my hand. We're right here with you honey.
Feel that pinch? Yes, yes I do. Okay, another 5 minutes.
They put the drape up and continued working. I felt another pinch but no one said anything. Hey, I felt that, I said.
Oh, you did? Okay, tilt the table. Another couple minutes.
Jamey, my mom, and the photographer came into the room. The video camera starts, and now my memories are backed up with tape. Jamey put his forehead to mine. I have no idea what we said to each other, but you can tell in the video we are whispering. I wish I remembered.
Jamey had his phone, my mom had hers, the photographer had her camera. Everyone seemed ready but me.
Then I heard it.
Let's get started.
When we arrived at the OB Emergency, I was wheeled into room 75. The place looked pretty empty, and I was glad for it. Just a few years before I had visited this hospital to deliver a newborn crochet set to a new momma I had gone to high school with. It felt odd to be back as a patient.
I really thought they'd be running some tests and sending me home.
I was hooked up to a blood pressure monitor, labs were drawn, urine sample taken (again). That blood pressure cuff was so uncomfortable and inflated every 15 minutes. Every single time my blood pressure registered high. Every time the nurse had to come in and shut off the annoying beep.
Hi Kaila, we'd like to introduce you to Dr. Townsend. Can you tell her what's going on?
I don't even remember exactly what I told her, other than I CANNOT get stuck here. We just cannot deliver here. I have a whole team up at Rush Copley. They know what I need, we've been planning for months.
Rush Copley? I live up there. Who do you see?
I explained everything to her and found out that she had worked with my OB in the past. She even had his phone number. I'll call him and we will discuss what we should do.
Honestly, at this point I'm fuzzy about the details and Jamey had fallen asleep on the couch in the room. We were right at shift change, so the doctor who knew my OB was leaving and a new one entered. People were in and out of our room, asking so many questions and I just kept telling them, I NEED to get back to my doctors in Aurora. Please just make sure I get back there.
My labs came back and my new doctor came in to talk to me. I wish I'd woken Jamey up. I don't know why I didn't. His snoring was loud and I knew he was exhausted. Just tell me what's going on, please discharge me. I promise we will head straight to Rush when we leave.
Listen. Your labs are not where they should be. Your liver enzymes are triple their normal value and your platelets and red blood cell count are dropping. Your blood pressure is high, and there is protein in your urine. With all of this put together, we are sure you have what's called HELLP syndrome. The only way to "cure" this is delivery, and we recommend sooner than later.
My jaw dropped and I started to tear up. Sooner...as in maybe next week?
No, we don't have that kind of time. Sooner, as in the next 30 minutes. And we need to get you started on magnesium to prevent you from having a seizure.
That was when I woke up Jamey. I started to sob. I don't have any of his things. I don't have his memento-making box, the blanket I made, the baby book to take footprints...I don't have a photographer on call here. What are we going to do??
We googled HELLP syndrome. A little blue bar showed up at the top of the screen. Very rare. Fewer than 20,000 cases/year.
You have got to be freaking kidding me.
Once again, this is blurred for me. I remember calling my Mom and saying, "You need to get up here. They're going to take him." "What?!? We'll be right there," she'd responded.
We thought we were there for heartburn.
I asked them to take a quick check of my gal bladder to make EXTRA sure they weren't wrong about this diagnosis. How do you know it's this for sure, especially since it's so rare?
It's not so rare that we've never seen it before, my doctor said, In fact, my wife had this syndrome with our last baby.
But...my son is going to die when you take him. We hadn't even had a meeting yet with our neonatologist. We still had time.
Doctors and nurses scrambled to prepare for Gabriel's delivery. Jamey told me later they called someone on their way home from the night shift to turn around and come back. Their neonatologist came in and started asking questions. At that point they had started the magnesium and I was beginning to feel foggy. Question after question.
I was afraid I'd answer incorrectly or forget something. Maybe he could be saved by some crazy miracle and he would now die because I'd forgotten an important piece of information. About a week after his birth, I had called my maternal fetal med physician, absolutely sure I had just let him die. That I didn't care enough to try. That I'd missed something. A better mother would have made sure he lived. Even when you know there's nothing that could have been done, the guilt is crushing.
My Mom, Dad, and baby sister arrived. They brought a sweet blanket with angel wings and Gabriel's name that had been gifted to me the night before by my cousin. I had something for him. I was so happy for that. They started asking questions, the same I'd had.
The team answered everyone's questions and said, we called a photographer for an organization called Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep. Are you familiar with them? We are just waiting on her right now and we will take you back.
Oh my goodness, yes. We had an amazing photographer when Sam was born who volunteers with NILMDTS, and I had already contacted another volunteer photographer in our area too. I was beyond grateful this team of doctors were making sure our needs were met. We want to make sure we take care of you not only physically, but emotionally and spiritually during this time, my doctor had said.
We need more doctors like him. He even asked me who I would like to join me in the OR. Can my husband AND mom come?
Of course. We'll bring in extra scrubs for them.
The photographer is here. We need to take you back to be prepped.
Are you ready?
Nope. I'll never be ready.
They wheeled me out. I was in a bit of shock. Unfortunately at this point all I could focus on was the catheter they'd put in after they started the magnesium. Is this really what I'm going to remember from this? The catheter? This thing is awful. I'm so ready for the spinal so I don't feel it anymore. Just. Breathe.
They put me on the table and injected the spinal. Sweet. Relief. They laid me back on the table, inserted the oxygen tube into my nostrils, and started prepping. All I could see was the infant warmer across the room, and I could hear the beeping of machines. Oh my goodness. Gabriel's going to be in that soon. I'm not ready. Let me go. This is not what I want.
Would you like to listen to some soft music?
Music? Who wants to listen to music? I don't care. No, I thought.
Yes, I whispered.
I heard the radio come on with some quiet music. My doctor started telling them to change the station, a couple changes and he said, Yes, this one. Stay here. He chose KLOVE.
Tears started to roll off my cheeks and fear started to set in. Someone grabbed my hand. We're right here with you honey.
Feel that pinch? Yes, yes I do. Okay, another 5 minutes.
They put the drape up and continued working. I felt another pinch but no one said anything. Hey, I felt that, I said.
Oh, you did? Okay, tilt the table. Another couple minutes.
Jamey, my mom, and the photographer came into the room. The video camera starts, and now my memories are backed up with tape. Jamey put his forehead to mine. I have no idea what we said to each other, but you can tell in the video we are whispering. I wish I remembered.
Jamey had his phone, my mom had hers, the photographer had her camera. Everyone seemed ready but me.
Then I heard it.
Let's get started.
I read every time you post. I have read everything you have posted for the past 6 years. Never in these last 6 years have you been far from my mind. I never know what to say because nothing I can say will change any of it. I can't say I understand because I don't, and hope I never do. I can't say it will get better because how do I know. What I can say is have a day, then have another day. I won't say have a good day because you simply can't right now. Know that people, myself included, have cried for you and prayed for you. Know that a lot of people are here to hear you. Scream if you need to scream then scream again. You are an amazing mom of 4 babies! I don't have to know you as an adult anymore to know that. Much love from your hometown.
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